


let the new day shine its light on me

by starrydrowse



Series: like the love that discovered the sin [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kink Exploration, M/M, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydrowse/pseuds/starrydrowse
Summary: Brian does look rather lovely when he sleeps, Roger thinks, soft and gentle and pretty. He looks so peaceful, Roger almost feels bad when he reaches out and pinches him awake.Almost.*Roger and Brian spend a morning together and stumble across a new kink neither of them knew they had.





	let the new day shine its light on me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [let’s stop before it gets messy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820398) by [owenwilsonvevo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owenwilsonvevo/pseuds/owenwilsonvevo). 



> this was inspired by "let's stop before it gets messy" by owenwilsonvevo because she had the hot take that roger has a piss kink and GOD was she right
> 
> i got super carried away lol I was gonna end it after about 5k words and ended up just writing more smut because I have absolutely no self control!! that being said, this is literally just 9k words of fluff, roger pissing himself, and pure filth so like. don't read if that's not your thing
> 
> otherwise enjoy!!
> 
> (title taken from "the new day" by greta van fleet)

Roger groans and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to block out the sunlight filtering in through the curtains. When it doesn’t work, he turns over again and shoves his face into his pillow, willing sleep to take him. It’s no use.

He groans again, louder this time.

It’s half eight, and yeah, it’s not _that_ early. But it’s a Saturday, and he’d been hoping to have a bit of a lie in after the weeks of non-stop studying for finals. He’d finally written his last exam on Friday, and Brian doesn’t write again until Wednesday. Plus, Freddie and John had plans to go to the market early, meaning Roger and Brian wouldn’t be woken up at the crack of dawn by Freddie’s non-stop singing and restless shuffling around the flat as they were most days. Roger had hoped this meant he and Brian would be able to sleep in for a few hours and catch up on sleep and cuddles, with a quiet flat and no imminent threats of finals on the horizon for the next few days. But it seems the universe had other plans for him, and he’d found himself awake at eight o’clock in a room full of yellow sunlight and Brian’s steady breathing beside him. He’s spent the last half hour squeezing his eyes shut, trying his hardest to get back to sleep, but it’s no use.

The stress of exams hasn’t been kind to either of them. It’s been weeks since Roger has gotten a full night’s sleep, spending his days strung out on coffee and energy drinks and maybe a little more adderall than he’s technically prescribed, hunched over his books at the wobbly kitchen table for hours on end. Brian is no better - he’s always held himself to ridiculously high standards, and his health has always suffered for it. Freddie has been flocking around him like a mother hen for weeks, reminding him to eat and bringing him glasses of water when he notices that Brian hasn’t moved from his place at the table in a few hours. Roger can’t quite remember the last time he woke up with Brian in bed beside him, usually getting up in the early hours of the morning to find him already hunched over the kitchen table, headphones on and nose in his books, papers spread out on the table around him.

Roger has missed him terribly, in that sense, even though he’s seen him every day. He misses going out with Brian, curling up with him to waste time in front of the tv, laying in his arms for hours on end while they do nothing but listen to Hendrix records on repeat and enjoy each others company. It’s also been weeks since they’ve had a proper shag, both of them too exhausted and strung out for anything more than rushed hand jobs and the occasional blow job before bed. He misses Brian’s body, Brian’s hands on him, Brian’s cock splitting him open, Brian’s tight heat wrapped around him.

Roger groans into his pillow again, and part of him wishes it would wake Brian up. When it doesn’t, Roger does it again.

He knows he’s being a selfish prick. By all rights he should just let Brian sleep, god knows he’d been exhausted by the time he’d fallen into bed the previous night. But, Roger thinks, he’d managed to get Brian in bed fairly early, pulling him from his books around midnight. They’d managed to sleep for nearly eight hours, which is about four hours more than Brian’s gotten most nights over the last few weeks. And, in Roger’s defense, he _misses_ him. He wants to look into Brian’s eyes and hear his voice, feel his hands on his skin. If he’s honest, he might be thinking less with his head and more with the morning wood that’s resting hard and insistent against his thigh at the moment, but all the same he groans again, louder. When Brian still doesn’t so much as stir beside him, Roger huffs into his pillow and turns onto his side again to glare at him.

Brian is still fast asleep, seemingly undisturbed by Roger’s restless shifting and never ending stream of frustrated groans and huffs. He’s curled onto his side with his head resting on his arm, eyes closed and mouth ever so slightly parted, his hair an utter nest. He does look rather lovely when he sleeps, Roger thinks, soft and gentle and pretty. He looks so peaceful, Roger almost feels bad when he reaches out and pinches him awake.

Almost.

Brian’s eyebrows immediately furrow in his sleep, eyes squeezing tighter shut as he frowns and flinches away from Roger, making a tired groaning noise. Finally, his eyes slowly blink open to look at Roger groggily. “Did… you just pinch me?” he asks, eyes only really half open, voice low and hoarse with sleep.

“No.” Roger lies.

“Why did you pinch me?” Brian rephrases, blinking a few times and now looking rather irritated.

Roger shrugs and tells him, “We slept in. It’s like two o’clock.”

“What??” Brian’s eyes go wide and he sits up immediately. While he’d let Roger talk him into sleeping in a bit in the morning, Brian still has an exam on Wednesday and a lot of review to get through, so he’d wanted to be up by a decent hour to start studying. He whirls around to grab his phone from where it’s charging on the bedside table, turning it on so he can see the time. Immediately he rolls his eyes, feeling annoyance curling in his chest, but he relaxes all the same.

He gives Roger a look he hopes is at least a little bit angry, but is most likely just tired. “It’s only half eight, Rog,” he says, falling back onto the pillows and fixing Roger with an irritated glare.

“I missed you,” Roger tells him.

“I was sleeping,” Brian says.

“And now you’re not,” Roger says, and Brian has to resist the urge to smack him upside the head.

“I thought you wanted to sleep in today,” Brian says.

Roger hums, scooting closer so he can rest his head on Brian’s shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to wake me up?” Brian asks.

“Missed you,” Roger repeats. Brian just hums, and after a moment, Roger says, “Do you miss me?”

“You’re right next to me Rog,” Brian tells him.

Roger rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Brian hums again, pausing to think for a few moments. Finally, “No.”

Roger looks up at him, and when he does, there's a smile tugging at the corner of Brian’s mouth. Roger grins up at him. He shifts so he can swing a leg over Brian’s lap, straddling him, feeling Brian’s hands come to rest low on his hips. “You’re a liar.”

Brian grins up at him crookedly, all pretty and sharp angles. “Am I?”

Roger kisses him soundly. “You miss me,” he says when he pulls back, and Brian looks up at him fondly, thumbing over Roger’s hipbones where his hands rest under the fabric of his shirt. “Tell me you miss me,” Roger says.

“I miss you,” Brian tells him, and Roger kisses him again. Brian kisses him back easily, naturally, and Roger feels like he could float away.

“You’re hard,” Brian tells him when he pulls away.

“You have morning breath,” Roger shoots back.

Brian raises an eyebrow. “I’m assuming the two aren’t connected.”

Roger rolls his eyes and rolls his hips down, and he hears the gentle hitch of Brian’s breath. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” he says, slowly trailing a hand down Brian’s chest. “Are you coming?”

Brian looks up at him. “No, I think I’ll just go back to sleep, actually,” he says.

Roger raises an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Brian says. Roger can feel Brian’s cock hardening, pressing against his ass as Roger rocks against him slowly. “Doesn’t seem to be too much going on worth staying awake for.” His hands drift down, gently squeezing the meat of Roger’s ass.

“You sure?” Roger says, and he can feel his dick straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. “You might be missing out.”

Brian smirks underneath him, and his hands feel huge on Roger’s ass. “And what might I be missing out on?”

Roger grins back at him. “I guess you’d have to join me to find out.”

And then Brian is shifting, propping himself up with one hand so he can sit and lean back with Roger still moving slowly in his lap. The other comes up to cup Roger’s cheek before he kisses him, harder than before, a promise of more to come. “Freddie and John are gone, right?” he asks when he pulls away.

Roger nods. He has to tear his eyes away from Brian’s lips to meet his eyes. “Yeah, Deaky said last night they were leaving for 7:30.”

Brian smirks. “Let’s go then.” Roger grins at him, before he swings himself off of Brian’s lap, crawling off the bed. Brian swats at his ass lightly as he stands up, and Roger yelps. “Cheeky little thing.”

Roger laughs, and all but drags Brian to the bathroom, and Brian chuckles when the second they’ve closed the door behind them Roger has him pushed up against it, kissing him and palming him through his boxers. “Eager are we?” Brian smirks when Roger pulls away.

“Shut up,” Roger tells him, squeezing Brian’s cock and making his breath hitch. “Missed you, remember?”

They get ready for the shower quickly, brushing their teeth and shedding their clothes as Brian grabs the towels from the linen closet and Roger starts the water. Roger sticks his hand under the stream to check the temperature, and he gasps as the feeling goes straight to his bladder, making it twinge. He hadn’t even noticed he’d needed a piss, but now that he does he realizes he actually needs one rather badly. His bladder feels heavy and swollen, and when he brushes a hand over his abdomen he feels his bladder spasm. He wants to tell Brian to give him a second so he can use the toilet, he knows Brian definitely wouldn’t mind. Except that now Brian is leaning flush against him while Roger adjusts the temperature, with his sinful hands on Roger’s waist and his lips on the nape of Roger’s neck and Roger thinks he can definitely wait until after the shower.

It’s fine for a few minutes. As soon as they get in, Roger is pinned to the tile wall of the shower with Brian’s lips are on his neck, Brian’s hands resting on the curve of his ass, and it’s so good it makes Roger dizzy. Brian’s skin is wet and slippery against Roger’s as he licks along the column of Roger’s throat, sucking a bruise into the spot right below his jaw that never fails to make Roger’s dick twitch. Brian is flush against him, his cock pressed firmly against Roger’s hip while he moves a hand up to cup Roger’s face, kissing him deep and thorough, licking into the heat of his mouth. Brian’s other hand wraps around Roger’s cock, his grip loose, stroking him with just enough pressure to tease, the way he knows drives Roger absolutely insane.

And _god_ it’s nice. Roger loves Brian’s hands on him, wishes he could spend every minute of every day exactly where he is right now. Except - his bladder is twinging rather insistently now, the pressure near constant and getting painful. Being in the shower isn’t helping either, and he pulls Brian closer by his hair and kisses him hard to distract himself from the hiss of the water spraying from the showerhead, the splatter as it hits the floor of the tub, the warmth as it drips from his hair and runs down his back and his chest, over his face.

He doesn’t want to stop, but his bladder spasms and the thinks of the alternative, of the humiliation of losing control and pissing himself in front of Brian like a fucking toddler, and, with more self control than he thought he was capable of, he breaks the kiss. The words come out breathless when he says, “Hang on, hang on -” but then Brian’s lips are at his jaw again, nipping and sucking another bruise into his pale skin, and god that’s _nice._

Brian seems not to have heard him, or maybe he just ignored him, because his hand is suddenly tighter around Roger’s cock, stroking him firmly with the pressure that Roger desperately needs. Roger can’t help but moan, and then Brian is kissing him again, and he’s lost in it.

He forgets again, for a moment, how desperately he needs to piss. He lets himself be kissed and sighs into Brian’s mouth, fingers gripping Brian’s ass tightly, and Brian rocks against him. It’s gentle and wonderful, but then he accidentally puts too much weight on Roger’s bladder. Roger’s eyes fly open and he pulls away again breathlessly. “Mmm, Brian, shit, hang on. I gotta piss.”

Brian just looks at him, pupils blown wide and dark. His hand doesn’t stop moving on Roger’s cock, touching him in just the way he knows makes Roger’s legs weak - firm, twisting at the base, thumbing over the head. Roger lets out a shaky breath, resting his head back against the tile wall as his bladder spasms again and fuck, he really thinks he might leak.

“You can hold it for me, right baby?” Brian murmurs, voice low and deep.

Roger whimpers as Brian’s hand flies over his cock, feeling Brian’s other hand squeeze his ass, and he wants to _so bad_ , but his bladder twinges sharply and he has to tense his whole body to keep from losing it right then and there. If he wasn’t already mostly hard, if Brian wasn’t stroking his cock like he is, he honestly might’ve lost it already. Even now, the pressure is so all-consuming and distracting that he can feel himself starting to go soft, and _fuck,_ he doesn’t think he can. “I dunno Bri,” and he whimpers as his bladder spasms again. “I really have to go.”

Brian hums down at him, but he doesn’t stop. “You sure baby? Aren’t I making you feel good?” he says, voice low, as he thumbs over the head of Roger’s cock, making Roger’s legs shake and his dick twitch and Roger whines and tenses all of his muscles to stop himself from leaking. Still, he thinks he might’ve lost a little, and he hopes to god Brian didn’t notice. Brian’s eyes are dark as his other hand slides down the curve of Roger’s ass, light touches teasing Roger’s hole. “I’m making you feel good, right love?”

And then suddenly Roger’s eyes are going wide. He can feel the pressure in the tip of his dick and he’s scrambling to try to push Brian off of him, gasping out “Shit, shit Bri, get off-” but it’s too late.

It sprays out of him with no chance of stopping it, shooting up onto their chests where they’re still pressed close together, onto Brian’s hand which is still tight around his dick. Brian’s eyes go as wide as Rogers and he lets go of him quickly, taking a step back as Roger’s own hands fly to his dick, crossing his legs tightly and bending over.

He squeezes himself for all he’s worth, gasping and whining and trying desperately to stop it, but it’s too late. It’s warm as it sprays through his fingers uncontrollably, streams down his legs and splatters onto the floor of the tub, and his cheeks burn because he knows Brian is watching him wide-eyed, watching him fucking _piss himself_ for fucks sake.

 _God,_ it won’t stop, it just keeps coming and coming, and Roger groans, finally giving up and letting himself go, panting and watching his dick continue to piss, full force, and the hissing is deafening even over the sound of the shower. He can feel Brian’s eyes on him, and really, he should be much more embarrassed - he knows he _will_ be more embarrassed later - but in the moment all he can think of is the _relief._ The pain and pressure in his bladder subsides as it empties, and he feels the tension seeping out of his shoulders, feels his body tingle and shake with the relief, and he can’t stop the way his head tips back and his eyes close, can’t stop the _filthy_ moan that leaves his lips as it shoots out of him onto the floor of the tub, gets washed down the drain by the running water.

As his stream finally slows to a trickle, he comes back to himself a little, and he’s suddenly extremely and painfully aware of what he just did. His cheeks _burn_ and he swallows so hard his throat clicks. His skin feels impossibly hot and his eyes sting and he honestly thinks he might cry. He’s still panting slightly and he can feel Brian’s eyes on him, burning a hole in his skin, and Roger finds himself wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.

It’s quiet for a long moment while Roger breathes and stares at the floor, where his piss has since been washed away by the spray of the shower, and Brian is extremely, disconcertingly quiet.

Roger really thinks, for a moment, that Brian might hate him now. He thinks Brian might utterly despise him for being so fucking filthy and _disgusting_ , and he prepares himself to beg, to grovel at Brian’s feet for forgiveness, starts thinking about how quickly he might be able to pack up his things and be on the next train out of town. When he finally breaks the silence, his voice is small and hoarse. “I’m so sorry.” Brian doesn’t say anything, and Roger thinks this is it. His eyes sting as he forces himself to look up to meet Brian’s eyes and- oh.

Brian is flushed from his cheeks to down his chest. His cock is red and leaking, rock hard between his legs, and his eyes are dark, mouth still slightly parted. The look he fixes roger with is hungry, and he looks like he wants to absolutely _devour_ him.

_Oh._

Before Roger can speak again Brian is surging forward, his hands flying to either side of Roger’s face, kissing him so hard it’s bruising.

It’s biting and rough and _hard_ , and Roger melts into it. He lets Brian crowd him up against the tile wall again, bodies flush together as Roger buries his fingers in Brian’s hair and nips at his lower lip, Brian’s hands sliding down Roger’s sides to knead at the meat of his ass. Roger is quickly growing hard again, and when he feels Brian’s cock rub against his, his breath hitches. He rolls his hips almost involuntarily, and Brian moans into his mouth, so broken and fucking _filthy_ that it makes Roger’s head swim.

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into Brian, doesn’t know why the anger- or, at the very least, irritation- never came, but he doesn’t think he cares as long as Brian’s wet skin is sliding against his, as long as Brian’s hands are on his ass and his tongue is in his mouth.

Brian only pulls away long enough to moan against Roger’s lips, “Want you. Fuck. Wanna fuck you.”

Roger snakes an arm around Brian’s neck and pulls him closer. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Shit, please, want you too, Bri, fuck.”

Brian kisses him again, and he hikes Roger’s left leg over his elbow, his other hand slipping down to rub over his hole, making Roger whine. Roger fumbles for the lube on the bath rack, clicking it open and squirting a generous amount onto Brian’s fingers when he brings them up.

Brian doesn’t waste any time, slipping a finger into him down to the last knuckle. Roger shifts, bringing an arm down to help hold his leg up, hitching it over Brian’s waist, burying his other hand in Brian’s wet hair. Then Brian is slipping a second finger into Roger, who moans at the stretch. Brian’s fingers are ridiculously long and slender, and they open him up fast and messy, pulling little gasps and moans from Roger’s lungs, and then they’re pressing against that spot inside him and Roger sees stars. The whine he lets out would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so hard that the only thing he can focus on is getting Brian inside him as soon as possible.

Brian’s smirk is wicked as he curls his fingers again, pulling a high, breathy moan from Roger. “Does that make you feel good, baby?”

Roger whimpers as Brian's fingers move inside him, scissoring and stretching him out and making his legs shake. “Yeah,” he breathes, “God. Yeah, feels so good.”

Brian adds a third finger, and Roger has to grip the bath rack for support. “Tell me,” Brian says.

“What?” he asks.

“How good I make you feel.” Brian murmurs, hooking his fingers forward and making Roger cry out. “Wanna hear you.”

Roger groans, and he wants so badly to fuck himself down onto Brian’s fingers, wants it harder and faster and _more_ , but he doesn’t want to risk losing his balance on the slippery floor of the tub. “Fuck, Bri,” he breathes, as his cock aches for some kind of friction. “Always make me feel so good. Love your fingers inside me, love your hands, god, always make me feel so good baby. M’so fucking hard, fuck, want your cock, please Bri-”

Brian leans forward to kiss him, hard. “God, you drive me fucking crazy, baby.” he groans, twisting his fingers inside Roger. “Look so pretty on the end of fingers. Bet you’d look even better on the end of my cock.” Roger moans, and he rolls his hips when Brian presses his fingers against his prostate again. “Isn’t that right love? Always so pretty for me, baby.”

“Fuck me,” Roger moans.

“Always so dirty,” Brian tells him, voice low. “So filthy. Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he promises. Roger whimpers, eyes squeezed shut as he grips the bath rack with white knuckles. “Is that what you want, love? Want me to make you feel good?”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Roger whines, and he’s so hard he can barely think straight. “Yeah, fuck, please Bri, fuck me, need your cock, need you to fuck me-”

Suddenly Brian’s lips are on his again, kissing him until he’s breathless. When he pulls away, he slips his fingers out of Roger and lets his leg down. “Turn around,” he growls.

Roger turns and braces his forearms on the tile wall, head hanging as he tries to catch his breath, so hard it’s starting to hurt. He reaches down to squeeze his cock, trying to ease the ache just a little, before one of Brian’s hands is splayed over the small of his back and Brian’s cock is teasing against his hole, and Roger has to brace both arms against the wall again to keep himself steady. He clenches around nothing and he’s still so hard he could cry.

“Ready?” Brian asks, breathless.

Roger groans, frustrated. “Jesus Brian, just fuck me already.”

He knows it’s coming before he feels the sting of a hand smacking his ass, but it still makes him gasp, and before he can recover, Brian is pressing into him.

No matter how much Brian opens him up beforehand, taking Brian’s cock is always a stretch. Brian pushes in inch by inch and Roger does his best to relax, and he can’t help the filthy, choked moans leave his mouth because he feels so fucking _full_. He squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers at the ache, and Brian stops moving, his hand stroking over Roger’s waist, gently. Roger is vaguely aware of Brian crooning pretty things to him, telling him how good he is, how pretty and lovely, and finally the pinch gives way to more of a pleasant burn, and Roger nods to let Brian know he can keep going. When Brian bottoms out, Roger is breathing hard, and Brian strokes over his hips, rubbing comforting circles with his thumbs as Roger gets used to the stretch. No matter how bossy and demanding Roger gets during sex, no matter what their dynamic is, Brian knows Roger always needs a moment to adjust, and he gives it to him easily, even when every fibre of his being is screaming at him to fuck him so hard he can’t remember his own name.

Finally, Roger rocks his hips back, and Brian takes it as the sign that it is to start fucking him. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t know if he could even if he wanted to, and he pulls almost all the way out before he fucks back into him, hard. Roger’s moan is high and choked as he pushes his hips back to meet Brian’s thrusts.

They set a brutal pace, Brian fucking into Roger hard and fast and relentless. He holds Roger’s hips and fucks him like he needs to be fucked, rough and thorough, and Roger can’t help the sounds that fall from his lips, the whines and moans and gasps as Brian pulls him back by his hips to meet every thrust. His noises mix with Brian’s pants and groans, with the loud slapping of wet skin on wet skin, filling the shower.

And then Brian’s hand is fisting in his hair, pulling back hard and forcing Roger’s head back and arching his back and he cries out as Brian fucks into him. The new angle lets Brian hit his prostate with every single thrust and Roger can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but moan and gasp as he tries not to collapse on his shaking legs. He’s harder than he thinks he’s ever been, so fucking close he can feel the heat coiling between his hips. He needs to touch himself, he aches to reach down stroke his dick, but he knows if he moves his hands from their position on the wall he’ll slip and lose the angle that’s making him come apart faster than he ever has before. He knows he’s babbling, gasping out curses and Brian’s name and begging for more, harder, more, fuck, please, need to come. He feels Brian’s rhythm start to falter and he knows he must be close, and then- _finally_ \- Brian’s hand, the one that’s not in his hair, is curling around his cock.

Roger sobs at the relief of Brian’s hand around him. Brian strokes him in time with his thrusts, fast and wet, pulling out all the little tricks he knows get Roger off in no time at all, flicking his wrist at the head while he thumbs over the tip. He’s fucking into Roger hard and fast, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust. Roger knows he’s crying, he can feel the hot tears running down his cheeks even with the spray of the shower, but _god_ if it isn’t the best sex he’s ever had. Roger doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore, but he can’t stop the sounds that fall from his lips, breathless moans of “ _Bri, oh, shit, fuck, Brian, shit_ ,” and the heat coiling between his hips is growing and licking tongues of flame up his spine until he’s gasping “Brian, shit, coming, I’m coming I’m coming-” and he sees white behind his eyelids.

He comes harder than he ever has, sobbing and gasping and shaking as he spills over Brian’s hand and onto the floor of the tub. It’s Roger’s clenching around him that ultimately does Brian in, fucking into him for another second or two before he stills, shuddering and moaning so loud and filthy as he spills into Roger. He pants, stroking Roger through the aftershocks, and when Roger whines with the oversensitivity Brian lets him go, slips out of him, immediately turns him around and gathers him into his arms.

Roger clings to him like Brian’s a lifeboat and he’s lost at sea, and Brian lets him lean his entire weight against him, supporting him so he doesn't collapse on his shaky legs. Roger pants hard into his chest as Brian holds him close and presses a kiss to his wet, tangled hair, still trying to catch his own breath. He feels warm and sated and entirely boneless, and he lets them sink to the floor of the tub. The water beats down on Roger’s back, and Brian leans forward to plug the tub and change the nozzle so the showerhead cuts out and water pours out of the tap instead, filling the tub.

When he shifts back, he gathers Roger in his arms again, letting him wrap his legs around either side of Brian’s hips, arms around Brian’s shoulders and face still buried in his chest. Roger shakes in his arms as he comes down from the intensity of it, and Brian presses kisses to the top of his head, whispers to him how wonderful he is and how much he loves him, slender fingers rubbing slow circles on his back until Roger finally lifts his head to meet his eyes.

He looks _wrecked_ , boneless and fucked out, with red eyes and pink cheeks and matted hair. He takes Brian’s face gently in his hands and kisses him like he loves him, and then tells him so. Brian smiles at him like the sun before he kisses him again.

After a few moments, Brian leans forward and turns off the tap, the room filled now with the gentle splashing of water as he shifts back to press a kiss to Roger’s forehead. “Turn around so I can wash your hair,” he tells him, and Roger does, settling between Brian’s legs as Brian takes the shampoo from the inner lip of the tub and works it to a later in his hands.

He brushes Roger’s hair to one side, leaning in to press kisses to his shoulder and the nape of his neck. His fingers are gentle against Roger’s scalp as he works the shampoo through his hair, and Roger is relaxed and placid between his legs. He uses the cup they leave beside the shower precisely for times like these to gather water and gently rinse the suds from Roger’s hair.

Once he’s satisfied there’s no soap left, he lets Roger turn around to face him once more, and sits patiently while Roger starts working shampoo into his curls. The angle is awkward, and suds run down Brian’s face. He knows Roger is missing hair in the back, and he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to get all the soap out- the texture and thickness of Brian’s hair makes it nearly impossible to clean, even when he rinses it properly under the shower. He knows he’ll probably need to shower again later to clean his it properly, but he also understands Roger’s need to take care of him after sex, too, knows it makes Roger happy when Brian lets him look after him, so he just closes his eyes so the suds don’t get in them and lets himself be taken care of.

It takes a while, Roger’s fingers gentle but firm as they work the shampoo into his scalp and through his curls, trying his best not to miss too much hair. It takes even longer to rise the suds out, with Roger eventually getting annoyed by how little the cupfuls of water seem to be helping and scooting back, forcing Brian to lean forward and stick his hair in the water. It helps a little, even though Brian knows it’s mostly just getting the soapy water from the tub back in his hair, and Roger laughs when Brian comes up gasping and looking like a sopping wet poodle.

Finally though, the shampoo has been rinsed out as well as Roger can manage, and Brian feels gentle fingers trailing down his cheek. His eyes are still closed, and before he can open them, Roger is kissing him, soft and sweet. When Roger pulls away, Brian opens his eyes, and he truly thinks he could melt with how lovely he looks, loose and relaxed and happy. He can’t stop himself from cupping Roger’s cheek and pulling him in to kiss him again.

The tub is small and cramped, and one of Brian’s legs is definitely falling asleep, but he can’t bring himself to care, not with Roger pressed up against him like this, his arms draped over Brian’s shoulders and his lips so soft and sweet against his. Brian isn’t sure how long they sit there like that, kissing and holding each other, but eventually the water starts to go cold, and Brian can’t help but be disappointed when Roger pulls away from him, scooting back to give him room to stand up. He steps over the lip of the tub before he reaches a hand down to help Roger up, unable to stop the small surge of pride he feels at the way Roger winces when he moves, the way his legs still shake ever so slightly as he steps out. He leans down to let the water out as Roger grabs one of the towels they’d laid out on the lid of the toilet.

“God, Bri,” Roger complains, wincing as he shifts again to work the towel through his hair, “M’not gonna be able to walk properly for days.”

“Are you complaining?” Brian smirks at him and raises an eyebrow, grabbing the other towel and starting to dry off. “Because I do seem to remember something about you screaming ‘ _harder_ ,’ but if you’d prefer, I can always go gentler next time.”

Roger gives him a dirty look, but there’s no real venom behind it, and Brian rolls his eyes fondly as Roger wipes the mirror with his towel to clear the steam. Suddenly, one of Roger’s hands is flying up to own neck as he whips around to look at Brian incredulously.

“ _Brian!_ ”

Roger swings back around to look at himself in the mirror again, craning his neck to either side to get a better look at the multitude of deep purple love bites that are littered throughout the pale skin of his neck and his throat, along the corners of his jaw and over his collarbones. “ _Jesus_ Brian, I look like I’ve been attacked by a bloody vampire!”

And yeah, okay, Brian does feel a little bad about that - it’s coming up on May, and Roger can’t exactly go around wearing scarves and turtlenecks to hide them. He grins sheepishly at Roger as he works a comb through his hair, trying to detangle his curls as much as possible before they dry. Roger turns back to look at him incredulously. “I’m gonna get you back for that,” he promises, and Brian can’t help but laugh at the serious look on his face.

He doesn’t get to laugh for very long though, before he finds himself pinned against the sink with Roger’s lips on his neck. It only makes him laugh harder, Roger sloppily kissing and licking and sucking love bites into his skin. He honest to god _giggles_ as he tries to scramble away, but Roger has him pinned against the counter, arms on either side of Brian’s slender frame, and he’s _all_ upper body strength.  “Roger, Rog, stop it,” he gasps through his laughter, and he can feel Roger smiling against his jaw.

Roger’s trying his best to look serious when he pulls away to look at Brian, but there’s a glint in his eye and a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “S’Payback.” he tells him, meeting Brian’s eyes like he’s daring Brian to question him.

Finally, Brian sighs, still smiling, and tilts his head slightly to the side, a clear invitation. Roger grins at him before his mouth is back on Brian’s neck.

If Brian’s honest, it does feel nice. Roger’s mouth is hot and wet, nipping and sucking down the column of his throat. It’s a little _too_ nice, and Brian finds arousal stirring deep between his hips when Roger sucks a bruise into the spot by his jaw that always makes his dick twitch. He’s not quite quick enough to stop the tiny breath of a moan that falls from his lips. But then Roger’s lips are gone from his throat as Roger leans up to catch Brian’s lips with his own.

Brian lets himself be kissed, lets Roger take the reins, and Roger kisses him long and hard. Roger’s tongue slides over his bottom lip, and Brian opens for him without even thinking, lets Roger lick into his mouth. And _oh_ , this really isn’t helping, and Brian can feel himself starting to get hard again. When Roger finally pulls away, Brian cups his cheek, thumbs over his cheekbone. Roger’s lips are wet and swollen, and honestly, that’s really not helping either. He swallows. “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish, love,” he says finally.

Roger smirks up at him. “Who said I didn’t wanna finish anything?” He kisses Brian again, deeper this time, and now Brian’s cock is really interested. He knows Roger can feel it pressed against his hip.

Still he says, after Roger has pulled away to breathe again, “You sure you’re not too tired?”

Roger presses himself closer, and now Brian can feel Roger’s cock against his thigh, half hard. “I want it,” he tells him. “S’long as you do.”

Brian kisses him again, hard. He tugs at Roger’s lower lip with his teeth and rolls his hips to show him _yes, I definitely want this._

Without warning, Brian shifts, and suddenly his hands are under Roger’s ass and he’s picking him up. Roger shrieks with laughter, smiling wide as his legs wrap around Brian’s waist and he leans down to kiss him again. They stumble like that to the bedroom, grinning and giggling, still stark naked and damp from the bath.

Roger laughs again when Brian tosses him onto the bed, and he’s still laughing when Brian slots himself over him and catches his lips again, smiling into the kiss as he loops his arms around Brian’s neck.

They get right to the point, neither of them caring for or needing much foreplay. Roger is rocking his hips against Brian while he kisses him, trying to get some friction against his now fully hard cock, letting out the prettiest little sighs Brian has ever heard. Brian grabs the lube from the drawer of their bedside table, breaking the kiss to coat his fingers but Roger whines, “M’fine, Bri, don’t need any more prep.”

Brian knows he’s probably right, he must still be nice and open from earlier, but still he slides two fingers into him, and then three, just to make sure. He finds that Roger is right, and he moans at how open Roger already is for him, how he can just slide right in and fuck him.

He’s kneeling between Roger’s spread legs to position himself, stroking more lube onto his cock, when Roger suddenly raises himself up on his elbows and says “Wait, Bri, wait.” Brian stops immediately, thinking maybe Roger changed his mind, but then Roger is looking at him breathlessly, flushed all the way down his chest, eyes dark, lips wet. “Wanna ride you.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Brian mutters, leaning over Roger again to kiss him long and hard. “Yes.” he breathes when he pulls away. “ _Yes._ ”

Roger grins up at him, and then he’s flipping them so he’s on top of Brian, knees on either side of his hips as he leans down to kiss him again. He takes Brian’s cock in his hand, gives him a few firm strokes, before he’s raising up. Brian lifts himself onto his elbows so he can watch as Roger positions himself over his cock and starts to sink down.

Brian catches his lower lip in his teeth, watching the way Roger’s eyes squeeze shut and his brow furrows while he gets used to the stretch again. Roger lets out a shaky whine when he finally bottoms out, and Brian can’t hold back his moan. Roger is still impossibly tight and hot around him, even after being fucked earlier, and it makes him ache. He brings a hand up to squeeze Roger’s thigh, rubbing the soft skin gently.

“You feel so good, baby,” Brian murmurs as Roger starts to roll his hips shallowly. “God, Roger, baby, you always make me feel so good.” Brian can see the tension leaving Roger’s shoulders as he gets used to the stretch, starting to rock down onto Brian’s cock. Brian squeezes Roger’s thighs firmly. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says, and Roger’s flushes even pinker than he was already. “Look so pretty riding my cock. Like you were made for it.” Roger moans, tipping his head back as he starts to ride Brian properly, rising almost all the way off his cock before sinking back down, gasping as Brian groans. “You were made for this, weren’t you baby?” Brian murmurs, hands gripping Rogers ass to help him fuck himself on his cock. Roger nods, eyes hooded as he starts to go a little faster. “Words, love.” Brian croons.

“Fuck, Brian, yeah,” Roger gasps out, fucking himself harder on Brian’s cock, trying to find a rhythm. “Was made to take your cock. God, love it so much, feels so good Bri - _god_ you’re so fucking big, make me feel so full,” he moans.

Brain lets out a broken moan as Roger drops down onto his cock again and again, and _fuck_ , it’s _really_ good, but the angle is awkward. Brian’s neck aches from craning to look at Roger, and he can’t get a good hold on Roger to help him ride him. Not to mention that he wants Roger to be closer, desperately wants to lean in and kiss him right now, and he breaths “Wait, love, stop for a second.”

Roger looks at him confused, flushed pink and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, still sitting on his cock. Brian helps lift him off, before he scoots further up the bed to sit properly, leaning against the headboard. He pulls Roger back onto his lap, kissing him hard. When he pulls away, he guides Roger up by the hips and helps him sink back down on his cock, Roger gripping Brian’s shoulders for support, and Brian moans loudly when he bottoms out. Roger leans in and kisses him, hot and open-mouthed and dirty, swallowing Brian’s moans, and oh _yes_ , this is much better, Brian thinks.

Roger sets the rhythm again, fucking himself on Brian’s cock hard and fast, and Brian is sure his grip on Roger’s hips must be bruising with how tightly he’s holding him. He lifts him up and down on his cock, fucking up into him every time Roger drops back down, gasping and moaning every time. Roger uses Brian’s shoulders as leverage and finally finds the angle that lets Brian hit his prostate with every thrust, and he chases that, aiming for the same angle again and again. He’s vaguely aware of how loud they’re being, their moans and whimpers and panting mixing with the steady slap of skin on skin and the knocking of the headboard against the wall filling the room as he rides Brian into the mattress, but he really can’t bring himself to care, not now when he’s so close he can taste it, can feel it building deep between his hip, tongues of flame licking up his spine. The noises he’s making are high pitched and embarrassing but he can’t stop, they’re punched out of him every time Brian’s cock presses against his prostate as he drops down, making him see stars.

He’s so fucking close, and he curls a hand around his cock, jerking himself off in time with their thrusts. He knows Brian is close, he can feel it in the way his hips falter and his moans get higher and breathier, and then Brian is catching Roger’s lips with his own. It’s less a kiss and more them panting into each other's mouths as they chase their release, but it’s hot and wet and downright _filthy._

He’s not sure who comes first. It feels like the same moment Brian is stilling under him, moaning long and loud and broken, Roger is coming too, eyes squeezed shut and going silent before he’s gasping, spilling over his hand, over both of their stomachs. Brian pants into his mouth, one hand coming up to brush Roger’s sweaty hair out of his eyes, the other going to Roger’s cock, curling around Roger’s own hand and helping him stroke himself through the aftershocks. Roger’s forehead rests against Brian’s as he breathes shakily as he comes down from it, catching his breath, and he feels so sated and boneless he doesn’t know if he can move. When the sting of oversensitivity gets to be too much, Brian helps lift him off, laying him down on the bed, and Roger just smiles up at him, a little sleepy, a little blissed out, and very much in love. Brian smiles back at him like Roger hung the very stars in the sky, and he feels a beautiful warmth wash over him as Brian kisses him, tucks his hair back out of his face.

When Brian says he’s going to go get a cloth to clean them up, Roger wants to protest, wants to squeeze him in his arms so tightly he can never leave, but the come on his stomach and his chest and between his legs is starting to dry uncomfortably, so he lets Brian go.

Brian doesn’t bother putting anything on- after all, they’re alone in the flat this morning- and pads down the hall towards the bathroom. He grabs a washcloth from the linen closet and waits for the water to warm before he runs the cloth under it. He’s on his way back to their bedroom, wiping the cloth against his own bare chest to clean off the drying come that Roger had somehow managed to get almost all the way up to his chin, when he stops dead in his tracks, eyes going wide and immediately bringing the cloth down to try to cover his cock.

“Oh! Deaky!” Brian practically shouts, and he knows his shock is evident. John is seated at the kitchen table, headphones around his neck and a ridiculous amount of books and papers spread out on the table around him, fixing Brian with an amused look.

“Hey Brian,” John says casually, as if Brian isn’t standing in the hallway stark naked. Brian feels his cheeks go hot, and he’s suddenly painfully aware of the come drying on his chest and his stomach, and he prays to every god he doesn’t believe in that he’s too far away for John to see it.

“I thought -” Brian swallows. “I thought you had plans to go to the, uh, market. This morning. With Freddie,” he fumbles, and he thinks he’d quite like for the earth below his feet to open up and swallow him whole.

John just continues to ignore the absurdity of the situation, not showing any signs that he’s even noticed that Brian is standing naked as the day he was born, quite obviously flushed and sweaty from sex. “Nah,” John says, shrugging. He nods to the schoolwork spread out on the table. “Had too much to do. Decided to stay home.”

“Right.” Brian says, voice tight. His cheeks are hot and he’s extremely aware that a well-placed washcloth is currently the only thing keeping his dick from being in plain view. He slowly starts to edge towards his and Roger’s bedroom again. “How long’ve you, uh-” he swallows, throat dry. “How long’ve you been out here studying?”

Deaky raises an eyebrow and him and smirks, still seemingly pretty unfazed by the entire event. “All morning, Bri.”

Brian blanches. That means John must’ve heard them in the shower, must’ve seen them both stumbling out of the bathroom stark naked - _god_ , they’d been so distracted they hadn’t even _noticed_ John was there - must’ve heard every single thing that went on in their bedroom. “Right,” Brian says awkwardly, inching closer to the bedroom door. “I’ll, just, uh - I’ll talk to you a little later, then, I guess -” he fumbles with the doorknob to the bedroom.

Finally, John breaks, and his smirk is replaced by an affectionate (if not slightly exasperated) smile. He rolls his eyes at Brian, saying warmly, “S’fine, Bri, don’t worry. You didn’t know I was here.”

Brian relaxes a little bit, breathing out a chuckle as he casts his eyes to the floor sheepishly. He opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can say anything, John grins at him wickedly, waggling his eyebrows as he says “Honestly though, you’re gonna have to start gagging Roger. I don’t know how on earth none of the neighbors haven’t complained yet.” Brian’s cheeks go impossibly redder. “ _John-_ ” he hisses, but John just goes on, saying teasingly, “Maybe Freddie will buy him one for his birthday,” and after a moment, Brian can’t help but laugh at that in spite of himself, because honestly, it’s _such_ a Freddie thing to do that Brian really wouldn’t put it past him. He just rolls his eyes at John and calls him a tosser, getting a grin in return, before he’s slipping back into the bedroom, trying his best to keep himself covered.

Roger is still lying down, curled onto his side facing the door. He watches as Brian slips inside and shuts the door firmly behind him. “Who’re you talking to?” he asks, and his voice sounds so lovely and fucked out that Brian finds himself overcome with the urge to kiss him, so he does, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed and leaning in to gently press his lips to Roger’s. When he pulls away, Roger smiles up at him, open and bright. He rolls Roger onto his back, shifting to sit more comfortably and bringing the now slightly cool cloth to Roger’s skin. Roger doesn’t seem to mind the temperature though, just closing his eyes and stretching out, letting Brian clean him off.

“Deaky.” Brian says finally. “Turns out he was out in the kitchen all morning.” Roger just hums in recognition, not seeming overly concerned. “Must’ve heard everything. _And_ seen us coming back from the shower.” Roger just hums again, throwing an arm over his face to rest his forearm over his closed eyes, probably trying to shut out the bright sunlight filtering in through the curtains. Brian finishes cleaning off his own chest and tosses the washcloth in the direction of the hamper before bringing a hand to Roger’s side, thumbing over the skin of his waist gently. Finally, he says, teasing, “He told me I should start gagging you. Said the neighbors are gonna complain.” He doesn’t miss the way Roger’s dick twitches against his thigh and the most minute hitch in his breathing, the way that his cheeks colour a pretty pink. He decides not to bring it up, instead slotting that little piece of information away for future use.

Roger shifts his arm a little and cracks open an eye to look up at Brian. After a moment, he scoffs, but there’s a little smile on his face as he lets his eye fall closed again. “He can hardly talk, with half the things we’ve caught him and Freddie doing around the flat.” he jokes, making Brian chuckle. “Besides,” Roger grumbles. “S’not my fault you’re so bloody good with your cock.”

Brian rolls his eyes and smiles, nudging Roger until he shifts over enough that Brian can lie down beside him on the bed. Roger immediately turns to face him, curling up into his chest with an arm slung over Brian’s waist, cheek resting over his heart. Brian gathers him close, combing his fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

They’re silent for so long that Brian’s almost inclined to believe that Roger fell asleep again, but in the end it’s Roger who breaks the silence. His voice is teasing when he says “You know, I’d apologize for pissing all over you earlier, but it actually seems you rather enjoyed it.”

Brian’s fingers stop moving in Roger’s hair and he freezes, his cheeks immediately going red and hot. He opens his mouth to try to say something, anything, try to find a way to _defend_ himself somehow, but he only ends up stammering half an apology before Roger is giggling, squeezing him closer for a moment. “S’okay, Bri, I don’t care. S’not like I don’t have weird things of my own.”

Brian blinks down at him, brain stumbling to try to comprehend that Roger isn’t mad at him - not that he’d expected Roger to be _angry_ at him per se, Roger’s always been pretty open when it comes to sex. He’s never judged Brian for any of his other weird things before - and Roger is right, it’s not like he himself doesn’t have strange things that he’s into - but still, this is _different_ . It’s weird and gross and Brian expected Roger to at least be a little weirded out that he’s so turned on by him fucking _pissing himself_ for god’s sake. “I’m sorry,” He says finally, and Roger just scoffs.

“Don’t be,” Roger tells him. Then, “Keep playing with my hair.”

Brian laughs, feeling the tension leave his body as he starts to comb his fingers through Roger’s hair again, gently stroking over his scalp, and Roger hums contently into his chest. Another moment passes before Roger says “We could always try it again. If you’d like.”

Brian’s stomach flips. His cheeks still burn but he feels something hot and dangerous coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Really?” he asks, and Roger hums against his chest. “You don’t think it’s gross or unsanitary?”

Roger just shrugs, lifting his head from Brian’s chest to look him in the eye as he says “Seeing you turned on turns me on. If you’re into it then so am I.”

Brian just grins at him, pulls him forward to kiss him sweetly. “Okay,” he tells him, and kisses him again. They lay there like that for a while longer, limbs intertwined on the bed, dozing lightly in the mid-morning sun, until Roger’s stomach starts to grumble and makes them both laugh, makes them get up and get ready to face the day.

A few months later, on a hot and muggy day in late July, when the weight of exams has long since been lifted from their shoulders, Roger opens the small square box from Freddie that contains the glittery pink ball gag. As soon as Roger sees it, he’s throwing his head back in laughter. Brian feels his cheeks go warm when he catches sight of it, but Roger is laughing harder than he has in ages along with John and Freddie, and somewhere along the way, Brian finds himself joining in. Later that night, with the moonlight streaming in through the open window and the summer breeze cool against their flushed skin, it proves to be quite the lovely present after all.

**Author's Note:**

> im not even sorry
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @starrydrowse abt roger n brians piss kink!


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